Of Giant Forks and Flashback Sequences
by Rhianwen
Summary: What if Zidane had not interceded and stopped the fight between Amarant and Freya at the docks in Alexandria? The two get arrested, and then reminisce (???) when their plan of escape collapses down around them. Quite silly. :o)


'Do You Remember...?'  
  
  
  
Summary: What if Zidane had not interceded and stopped the fight between Amarant and Freya at the docks in Alexandria? Amarant and Freya get arrested, locked up, and then reminisce when their plan to escape collapses down around them. Inspired by 'Clerks,' the animated series.  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Amarant, Freya, Zidane, Vivi, or any of the blonde, thong-wearing Alexandrian soldiers. I do own the drunk guy, as if it's anything to be proud of. He's really more of a prop than a character.  
  
  
  
Notes: Alright, this was my own little 'what-if...?' As with my Slayers Vrumugun/Vrumugun romance fic, it absolutely would not quit plaguing me until I wrote it down. Oh, man...this has taken me so bloody long to write. Not nearly as long as 'Fortunes, Friendship, Fate, and Fish,' but a long time, nonetheless. Since the beginning of May, at any rate.  
  
  
  
  
  
And now, without further ado, oooooooooooooooooooooooon with the parallel sequence of events!  
  
"Good lord, Zidane is an idiot! If the boy's head were any emptier, the sound of the wind whistling through his ears might play a nice little song. Why is it the good-looking ones are always dumb as a post? What a bloody waste!" Freya Crescent was most likely NOT thinking as she made a move to leave the docks in the lovely city of Alexandria...and came to an abrupt halt.  
  
She glared up at the reason for this sudden stop.  
  
A pair of eyes completely hidden behind a thick bang of bright red hair presumably glared back.  
  
"What are you staring at?" she demanded, not altogether liking the way this immensely tall, considerably muscular figure made her feel reduced to approximately six years old.  
  
A corner of the man's mouth quirked up humorously.  
  
"Are you really that tough?"  
  
"Try me!" she snapped, fighting blood up in an instant. She leapt back, assuming a defensive stance. As though reading her mind, he did the same, growling as he did so,  
  
"I don't go looking for trouble, but I'll fight back if trouble finds me."  
  
"Oh, yeah?" Freya did not reply. "Well, then, BRING IT ON, SISTER!!!"  
  
"Why don't you apologize," the man suggested, making no note of having been referred to as 'sister,' as, of course, he actually wasn't, "and maybe I'll forgive you?"  
  
A nearby blonde, thong-wearing Alexandrian girl soldier shouted out words of protest that Rhianwen can't quite recall at the moment as the two combatants hurled themselves at one another.  
  
"Stop right now, or I'll charge you both with disorderly conduct!" a nearby blonde, thong-wearing Alexandrian girl soldier shouted. The two appeared to not even hear, as they went on with their friendly little fight, each intent upon seeing little pieces of the other lying all over the docks.  
  
This aforementioned nearest blonde, thong-wearing soldier called to the next nearest blonde, thong-wearing soldier, who in turn, called to another, who called to another, and soon, a veritable barrage (well, about eight or nine) of blonde, thong-wearing soldiers attempted to separate the two. Almost immediately, Freya found her weapon confiscated, and, she noted dryly, the red-headed man was being mobbed by thong-wearing blondes in such a manner that most men only dreamed about. This man, however, seemed, at this moment, not to notice at all, trying as he was to break free and get another hit in.  
  
"Alright!" one of the young women barked. "You two have been warned. You are hereby being charged with disorderly conduct. You will be taken to the prison house, where you will remain until you, or someone you know, can come up with your bail."  
  
"And if no one comes up with it?" the man inquired dryly.  
  
The soldier's finely-plucked blonde eyebrows wrinkled as she scowled at him.  
  
"Then you'll both be detained for five days."  
  
"For starting a fight?!"  
  
Freya bit back a smile. Although the situation was far from a good one, she had to appreciate the humour inherent in the way the apathetic expression had been all but wiped from the man's face at this revelation of the guard, to be replaced by an expression of anger and something oddly akin to panic.  
  
"Don't worry," she told him idly. "It could be worse."  
  
"How?" he demanded, scowling down at her.  
  
"...I'm sure there are ways."  
  
"Oh, shut up," he requested politely as the Alexandrian soldiers manoeuvred the pair toward a boat conveniently stopped just in front of the dock.  
  
  
  
"Okay, Vivi," Zidane Tribal relented, giving the small mage a fond smile as the two arrived at the oddly empty docks, "we'll say hello to Dagger, then we'll go."  
  
"Alright," Vivi agreed, ambling down the steps toward a new boat conveniently waiting for them.  
  
  
  
"Erm, excuse me!" Freya shouted, quite in vain, she suspected. "Might there be any way to send a message to a friend to bring bail money?"  
  
No reply. Not from the guards, at any rate.  
  
"Would you sit down and shut the hell up?" the red-headed man requested, annoyed. She scowled darkly at him.  
  
"You know, it's your fault we're in here. If anything, you should be up here, helping me, not telling me to shut up."  
  
"There's no one in this building! After they threw us in here, the guards left. Which means that calling for help is a really fucking stupid idea."  
  
"I'm not calling for help, genius," she did not retort. Instead, she flopped down, leaning against the wall of cold grey stone, next to him, with a sigh.  
  
"So, who are you, anyway?" she finally asked, glancing sideways at him curiously.  
  
"Trying to be friendly's a really fucking stupid idea, too," he informed her coldly.  
  
"Fine," Freya replied lightly. "If I need to talk to you, I'll just make up a name."  
  
"Good plan. I already have several for you."  
  
"No need. I actually have a name."  
  
"Doesn't mean I have to use it."  
  
"Right, right. Of course."  
  
  
  
And so they both lapsed into a long silence, leaning up against the rough stone of the tiny cell, lit only by what little light could filter in through a small barred window near the ceiling.  
  
This silence lasted approximately until a certain very drunk, very grubby man being led past, most likely to the drunk-tank, caught sight of Freya and whistled suggestively. The string of curses that she shouted out in reply was one that suggested that she had been learning much from her cell- mate along such lines.  
  
"Idiot," she muttered, scowling after the man's retreating back.  
  
"Blind idiot, apparently," the red-head commented with a snort.  
  
"Oh, you shut up, Rasta Chicken!"  
  
The curtain of red hair hanging over his eyes shifted slightly, suggesting that an eyebrow had been lifted.  
  
"Uh...what?"  
  
"Our agreement. I found a name for you. Congratulations; from now until we get out of here, you shall be known as Rasta Chicken."  
  
"You call me that again, you god-damned little bitch, I swear, I'll - "  
  
"Well, what would you prefer I call you, Mr. Rasta Chicken? If you give me a different name to use, I'll use it."  
  
"Amarant, okay? The Flaming Amarant. That's my name."  
  
"Hmm...I think I like Rasta Chicken better," she declared after much thought.  
  
"How 'bout living?" he growled. "You like that, too?"  
  
"Point taken. But personally, I don't think that Rasta Chicken is any sillier than the Flaming Anything."  
  
Disdaining to reply, Amarant opted instead to let out an irritated grumble, which put an end to all discussion of names and such for the time. Biding her time, Freya gazed beyond the bars out into the corridor, waiting anxiously for someone - anyone - to pass their cell.  
  
"You know, I'm fairly certain that they're not allowed to do this," she finally commented. Amarant rolled his eyes.  
  
"Hold us here? Of course they are."  
  
"No, not that! I know they're allowed to hold us. I'm talking about putting a male and a female in the same cell. Isn't there some sort of rule against that?"  
  
Again, the hair hanging over his eyes shifted, indicating more activity of eyebrow.  
  
"Not that I know of. Why the concern?"  
  
Then, smirking slightly, he continued.  
  
"Or should I be the one concerned?"  
  
"What?! Of course not! The mere idea! How absurd!"  
  
"Hmph," he commented eloquently, caught up between satisfaction at the knowledge that his words had ruffled this uppity little bitch every bit as much as he had planned, and slight annoyance at the exact level of disgust that the idea of 'taking advantage of him' had apparently stirred in her. Well, at least it had shut her up. Now being stuck in here wouldn't be so cataclysmically annoying.  
  
  
  
'Scratch that,' Amarant sighed to himself an hour later, glaring suspiciously at the drunk man currently grinning widely at him. 'It just got a helluva lot more annoying.'  
  
From the way she was edging back into the corner, he concluded that the little rat-woman seemed to feel the same way about the situation. Probably more, he admitted with a smirk, as he didn't have the problem of being in any way attractive to the drunk man...unless the drunk man should prove himself to be a little...Kuja, so to speak.  
  
It should have brought him no end of amusement, he reflected, to watch the discomfort that the inebriated dolt's advances caused in her, and to watch her respond to them with revulsion barely masked in politeness. It didn't, though. Because, he told himself, he knew that if she started shouting again, he'd have to listen to it.  
  
Just when Amarant had begun to get an inkling in his mind of doing something desperate, the man flopped his way over and threw an arm around his shoulders.  
  
"Uh...could you get off?" Amarant requested coolly.  
  
"Lis'n here, ya punk!" the man slurred, holding up a finger unsteadily. "I been 'round a lot, an'..."  
  
This was as far as he got before he slumped forward over the tall redhead's shoulder, snoring loudly. And so it was that Amarant Coral found his breaking point.  
  
"Alright, that's it," he decided, shoving the drunk away and standing up.  
  
"What's it?" Freya called dryly from the opposite corner of the cell.  
  
"I'm gettin' out of here," he announced, glaring darkly at her. "I can't take any more of this."  
  
"Yes, drunks are horribly annoying, aren't they?" she sighed.  
  
"Who's talking about the drunk?" he demanded with a smirk.  
  
"Oh, never mind!" she huffed, climbing to her feet. "What do we do?"  
  
"You're...coming with me?"  
  
"Well, I'm not going to stay alone here with him!" she exclaimed, gesturing to the man sprawled out on the floor, cuddling her helmet which she had earlier set aside, and drooling profusely over it. "...I think I'll let him keep that."  
  
Amarant rolled his eyes.  
  
"...Fine. I guess I can't stop you. You better be ready to dig, though."  
  
"With what?"  
  
"Whatever you have."  
  
"Ah. Hmm...I wonder why they didn't take our packs away when they arrested us..."  
  
"Yeah. Especially because they took that little stick of yours."  
  
With a long-suffering sigh, disdaining to reply, Freya snatched up her bag and began searching through it.  
  
"Oh! This will work wonderfully!" She held up the large fork triumphantly. "I forgot to return this to its owner, but it's a good thing, because it...will...work...wonderfully."  
  
Her words trailed off as she gazed bewilderedly at Amarant, who also held a gigantic fork, and stared bewilderedly at hers.  
  
"Where in the hell did you get that?" he demanded.  
  
"I was holding it for a friend when he found a better one, and I never gave it back to him. Where did you find that one?"  
  
"...An acquaintance had it with him," he replied with a chuckle. Then he walked over to the wall adjacent to the cell door, and gazed consideringly down at the dirt floor. "We should be able to dig out through here."  
  
"Erm...don't you think they'll notice a gigantic hole in the floor?" she inquired sarcastically.  
  
He glared at her.  
  
"That's why we cover it."  
  
"Ah! I know the perfect thing!" she proclaimed proudly before kneeling down and rolling the drunk man across the floor. "If we need him."  
  
"You're out of your mind, aren't you?" he asked with a helpless shake of his head, biting back a smile.  
  
"That's amusing, coming from a man who calls himself 'The Flaming Amarant.'"  
  
"Shut up and dig," he commanded, scowling.  
  
"You're just asking for abuse with a name like that."  
  
"And you're just asking for severe physical injury."  
  
"Fine," she sighed, prying a chunk of dirt from the ground with the fork.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hey, I think I found something," Amarant tossed over his shoulder, up the tunnel, at Freya, who was taking a moment to rest...and to see if the drunk man had, indeed, stopped breathing.  
  
As a bubble ballooned from his nose, she concluded, not altogether relieved, that he hadn't. He would have been the perfect witness. After all, she recalled, dead men don't carry tales. Of course, neither do severely inebriated, unconscious men, she added as an afterthought, starting back toward the wall.  
  
"What did you find?" she called down the tunnel. Really, they'd gotten quite an amazing amount accomplished for two hours.  
  
"I think it's...an old tunnel. Looks like we're not the first ones who just couldn't take this place anymore."  
  
"Yes, Amarant, believe it or not, the phrase 'jail-break' did not originate with us," she replied tiredly.  
  
"Y'know, rat, sooner or later, I'm gonna decide that the extra help you're providing in digging isn't worth having to listen to you, and you're gonna end up as unconscious as that drunk guy," he intoned forebodingly.  
  
"...Did you just call me...rat?"  
  
"Yeah, I did."  
  
"I do have a name, you know."  
  
"I thought we went over this. Just because you have it doesn't mean I have to use it."  
  
"Well, I think it's only fair that, if you get to choose what you call me, I get to choose what I call you - "  
  
"Don't say it."  
  
"Mr. - "  
  
"I'm serious, you little bitch."  
  
" - Rasta - "  
  
"If you finish that, I'm gonna throw you in here and load all this dirt back in."  
  
" - Chicken."  
  
An ominous silence fell.  
  
"Well!" she chirped brightly. "The heavens don't seem to be splitting in twain and raining fiery destruction down upon me yet. I'm nearly disappointed."  
  
He shook his head. The thought of finishing this tunnel alone certainly didn't appeal, and besides which, if they got caught, it might be handy to have someone else to blame.  
  
"Alright," he began with a weary sigh. "What's your name?"  
  
  
  
  
  
"Erm...is there any possibility that this tunnel might just...end?" Freya asked fearfully, giving the quite solid wall of dirt one final poke, just to be sure.  
  
"It's possible," Amarant replied, growling at the ache that was beginning to spread itself across his shoulders at the way he had to walk nearly doubled over. 'The people who built this tunnel must have all been midgets,' he reflected mournfully. 'But, what the hell. An escape's an escape.'  
  
"Wonderful," she murmured, throwing her arms up in frustration. They didn't, Amarant noted enviously, come within even six inches of hitting the top of this passageway. "Well, shall we start back?"  
  
With a shrug, Amarant turned and began to head back...and then stopped abruptly.  
  
"No," he replied shortly.  
  
"Why?" Freya inquired, honestly bewildered.  
  
"Come take a look."  
  
"Oh, bloody hell!" she exclaimed, poking a newly-formed, also quite solid wall of dirt. "How did we manage to not hear the tunnel caving in behind us?"  
  
"Your bitching probably drowned it out," he suggested calmly. "Don't panic. At least we know this part won't cave in. They've got supports holding it up, and it looks like whoever made them knew what he was doing."  
  
"Er, right," she agreed faintly, deciding that now wasn't a good time to mention her decided dislike of closed-in spaces. He'd find out soon enough, if they didn't get out within a reasonably short span of time. "I don't suppose you brought your fork along?"  
  
Despite the complete and utter 'sucktitude' of the situation, Amarant chuckled at this utterly absurd-sounding question.  
  
"No, I left it behind in the cell, right beside yours."  
  
"Oh...of course. How long do you expect us to be down here?"  
  
He shrugged, dropping to the floor.  
  
"Until they move that drunk guy and find the massive gaping hole underneath him."  
  
"But do you think anyone would come for us?"  
  
"Yeah," he replied curtly, loath to admit that, for this purpose, he was most fortunate to have her along.  
  
"But...why would they?"  
  
"They're very pro-woman here in Alexandria, right?"  
  
Freya nodded uncertainly.  
  
"When they find a hole in the floor, and us gone, they'll probably leap to the conclusion that I kidnapped you, and they'll come after us right away. Or," he continued amid her laughter at this thought, "Zidane might take it into his damn fool head to come look for me here."  
  
She stopped laughing abruptly.  
  
"Er...did you say, 'Zidane?'"  
  
"Yeah," he replied with a shrug.  
  
"Zidane Tribal?"  
  
"Yeah, that's him."  
  
"So, you know Zidane, do you?"  
  
"What, you know the kid, too?"  
  
"Well, yes! I've known him for years!"  
  
"Really. Then you can tell me why in the hell he carries around gigantic forks?"  
  
"So, you haven't met Quina, then."  
  
"Uh...no." He chuckled. "So, you were the poor sap who got to carry their equipment, too, huh?"  
  
"I offered," she replied with a shrug. "After all, Zidane had to move quickly to be on lookout, Vivi was far too small to carry all the junk we seemed to accumulate, and Quina...well, 'Quina eat,'" she quoted with a sigh.  
  
"Uh...right," he agreed, raising an eyebrow warily. "Guess if we both know Tribal, the chances just got that much better that he'll come in here and find us."  
  
"And it couldn't possibly be too soon," Freya noted, glancing warily at the walls. She could swear that they had moved inwards an inch or so since she'd last checked!  
  
"No argument here," he shot back. "The less I have to listen to you, the better."  
  
"Thank-you," she replied dryly. "Well, you won't have to worry about that. I promise, I won't talk to you, unless strictly necessary, until we get out of here."  
  
  
  
Three hours later...  
  
"Amarant?"  
  
"I thought you promised to keep your trap shut."  
  
"My...trap?"  
  
"You were gonna shut up until we get out of here," he paraphrased tiredly.  
  
"Yes, yes, I know, but...does it look like the walls have...moved in to you?"  
  
"No, you're just fuckin' delusional."  
  
"...No, I really think they're closer than they were before."  
  
He peered at her suspiciously. It seemed that she wasn't just making conversation. She'd gone quite pale beneath the short layer of fur on her face, and her hands were shaking slightly where they were clasped in her lap.  
  
"What the hell's your problem, anyway?"  
  
"If you must know," she replied wearily, "I'm horribly claustrophobic."  
  
"Oh, shit," he muttered. "You're not gonna throw up or anything, are you?"  
  
"Of course not!" she snapped.  
  
"You look like you're gonna pass out, though."  
  
"That is a possibility."  
  
"Shit," he swore again. "I always get the fuckin' looneys."  
  
"So, being trapped several feet underground with strange women is a common predicament for you?"  
  
"Don't be an idiot. All I meant's that I have to deal with some real god- damned weird people."  
  
"I thank you for including me in their ranks."  
  
"Well, this is great. Would talking about something else help you at all?"  
  
"It...might. What shall we talk about?"  
  
He chuckled.  
  
"Do you remember how we met?"  
  
"Of course," she replied with a fond smile. "It was at the Alexandrian docks..."  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~ Flashback Sequence [Cue the really pretty harp music] ~~~  
  
'I wonder if anywhere around here sells good ice cream,' Freya thought as she made a move to leave the docks in the lovely city of Alexandria...and came to an abrupt halt.  
  
She glared up at the reason for this sudden stop.  
  
A pair of eyes completely hidden behind a thick bang of bright red hair presumably glared back.  
  
"My name is Dante," the dark-haired, be-diapered young man seated cross- legged on the stone surface of the docks some ten feet away announced proudly, his dunce-cap glinting merrily in the sunlight as he swung the cat around and around above his head, "and I'm the biggest idiot ever!"  
  
~~~ End Flashback [pretty harp music in reverse - Watch out for subliminal messages!] ~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
"Yeah," Amarant broke in, shaking his head. "Who was that kid, anyway?"  
  
"Didn't you hear him?" Freya replied absently. He was Dante, the biggest idiot ever."  
  
"Do you remember what happened after that?" he asked, shaking his head.  
  
"I certainly do," she informed him, glaring. "We got arrested, because YOU felt the need to start a fight!"  
  
"Me?! You were the one who started it."  
  
"I most certainly was not!"  
  
"'Course you were. I remember it like it was yesterday."  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~ Flashback ~~~  
  
"What are you staring at?"  
  
A corner of Amarant's mouth quirked up humorously.  
  
"Are you really that tough?"  
  
"Try me!" she snapped, fighting blood up in an instant. She leapt back, assuming a defensive stance. As though reading her mind, he did the same, growling as he did so,  
  
"I don't go looking for trouble, but I'll fight back if trouble finds me."  
  
~~~ End Flashback ~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
"And...exactly what does that prove?" Freya inquired lightly.  
  
"You were lookin' for a fight. Admit it."  
  
"You provoked me!"  
  
"But you started it."  
  
"I did not!"  
  
"Yes, you did. You started it, provoked by me."  
  
"That means that you started it."  
  
"No, you still technically started it."  
  
"Oh, what does it matter? It was a long time ago."  
  
"...Actually, rat, it was about three hours ago. And we started talking it to take your mind off of being stuck in here so you don't start screaming hysterically."  
  
"...Oh. Of course."  
  
She laughed softly, and he shot her a questioning glance.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"What are you laughing at?"  
  
"Oh! I was just remembering the last time we got trapped in a tunnel underground like this."  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~ Flashback ~~~  
  
"Alright," Amarant began, kicking the newly-formed dirt wall now blocking their exit, "whatever happens, let's make sure this never happens again."  
  
"Agreed," Freya replied, glancing fearfully at the walls which, she was certain, seemed closer than the last time she looked."  
  
~~~ End Flashback ~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
"Huh...I guess we did a pretty damn crappy job of making sure," Amarant noted with a smirk.  
  
"So it would seem," Freya agreed tiredly. "Say, do you remember how we got out last time?"  
  
"Yeah...I think so."  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~ Flashback ~~~  
  
"Alright," Amarant began, kicking the newly-formed dirt wall now blocking their exit, "whatever happens, let's make sure this never happens again."  
  
"Agreed," Freya replied, glancing fearfully at the walls, which, she was certain, seemed closer than the last time she had looked.  
  
He shook his head and sighed.  
  
"Do you remember the last time we got trapped like this?"  
  
"How could I forget?" she demanded, rolling her eyes and sitting back against the wall.  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~ Flashback-within-a-Flashback ~~~  
  
"Alright," Amarant began, kicking the newly-formed dirt wall now blocking their exit, "whatever happens, let's make sure this never happens again."  
  
"Agreed," Freya replied, glancing fearfully at the walls, which, she was certain, seemed closer than the last time she had looked.  
  
He shook his head and sighed.  
  
"Do you remember the last time we got trapped like this?"  
  
"How could I forget?" she demanded, rolling her eyes and sitting back against the wall.  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~~ Flashback-within-a-Flashback-within-a-Flashback ~~~  
  
"Dude!" Amarant exclaimed, kicking the newly-formed dirt wall now blocking their exit, "there's a newly-formed dirt wall blocking our exit!"  
  
"Congratulations, Sherlock," Freya sighed, glancing fearfully at the walls, which, she was certain, seemed closer than the last time she had looked.  
  
"...Who?"  
  
"My name is Dante," the dark-haired, be-diapered young man seated cross- legged on the ground mere inches away announced proudly, seemingly unaware of their dire situation, his dunce-cap perched jauntily on his head as he swung the cat around and around high above him, "and I'm the biggest idiot ever!"  
  
Freya jumped back and out of the orbit of the cat around Dante's head. Then, as a thought occurred to her, she turned to the young man.  
  
"Why exactly are you here, anyway?"  
  
At once, the young man sighed, set down the cat, took off the dunce-cap, and stood up.  
  
"How the hell should I know? This is your flashback!"  
  
"Actually, it's his," she replied, pointing to Amarant. Then she stopped. "No, you're right. It's mine. So sorry about that."  
  
"Dammit!" Dante exclaimed, throwing his cap to the ground. "Why does everyone remember me doing this?! I'm not even supposed to BE here today!"  
  
  
  
~~~ End Flashback-within-a-Flashback-within-a-Flashback ~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
"Yeah,," Amarant commented, shaking his head. "I'm beginning to wonder why we hang out with that Dante kid. All he ever does is swing cats around wearing diapers and complain about how he's not even supposed to be here today."  
  
"And about everything else in the universe," Freya added, delivering one more futile kick to the wall. "Ow..." she intoned sadly as it was made clear to her the hard way that kicking a dirt wall with any considerable force, but with no shoes is a quick way to put oneself in a good deal of pain.  
  
~~~ End Flashback-within-a-Flashback ~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
"Great. Now that we remember that KICKING the wall won't help us get out of here," Amarant began sarcastically, "do you wanna try thinking about what WILL help us?"  
  
"Oh, shut up!"  
  
~~~ End Flashback ~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
"So..." Freya began slowly, "how DID we get out?"  
  
"Y'know, I don't remember," Amarant admitted, frowning slightly.  
  
"Oh, gods..." Freya whispered, eyes wide. "Amarant...what if we never did get out? What if we've been here the whole time, being digested by a gigantic mushroom, which has been emitting hallucinogenic toxins to make us THINK that we escaped and went on to do everything we've each done since then?"  
  
"Uh...what?"  
  
"It was just a thought," she replied with a shrug. Then, a moment later, she frowned. "You know, something seems a little strange to me."  
  
"You mean, this whole damn situation?"  
  
"Well...it is about that, yes."  
  
He rolled his eyes.  
  
"Fine. What seems 'a little strange?'"  
  
"If you're going to be like that," she warned, crossing her arms and looking away petulantly, "I won't tell you."  
  
"And that'd be a huge fucking tragedy," he muttered. "C'mon. Tell me."  
  
"Well, alright. If you insist."  
  
"Actually..."  
  
But he was interrupted as she hurried on.  
  
"It just seems a little funny that we've been in this same situation together so many times, when we only just met this afternoon."  
  
He sat up and looked over at her, preparing to tell her she was crazy, to shut up, and all those other nice things that little boys say to little girls when they're trying to pretend they don't like them. Then he stopped abruptly and frowned.  
  
"Y'know, rat, I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're right. Somehow, I don't think today was the first time we met, though."  
  
"Really? I'm getting that sense, too," she admitted. "So, when was the first time we met?"  
  
"It was a long time ago..."  
  
  
  
~~~ Flashback ~~~  
  
"Hello!" Li'l Freya chirped, taking a seat next to the stranger on the bench. "Are you sad? You shouldn't be sad. It's a pwetty day. You shoul' be happy!"  
  
Said stranger, a boy of about ten years old with a mass of red, dreadlocked hair hanging to his shoulders, and completely hiding his eyes, presumably gazed, quite astonished, at this little rat-girl, no more than five, who had been so presumptuous as to disturb his 'alone-time.'  
  
"And you should shut up," he informed her calmly, turning away.  
  
Undeterred, she slid closer to him and peered around him.  
  
"Do you live here?"  
  
"Is it your business?"  
  
"I don't live here. I live in Burmecia. Mommy an' Daddy an' me are just visiting Tweno for a little while."  
  
"Great. That means I'll never have to talk to you again."  
  
"You're mean!" she exclaimed, hopping off the bench and running away. Then, changing her mind, she turned around and stuck her tongue out most vigorously at him, then turned again and flounced away.  
  
~~~ End Flashback ~~~  
  
  
  
"Yeah, I thought you seemed familiar."  
  
"Well! I'm not sure whether to be flattered, or -"  
  
"I didn't think two separate people could possibly be that annoying."  
  
"Wha...?"  
  
"And both be rats? Pretty unlikely."  
  
"You're mean!" she informed him indignantly.  
  
"Yeah, and you're annoying. What's your point?"  
  
"Hmph!" she hmphed, turning to face the wall.  
  
He smirked, and the hope that she might stick her tongue out at him again caught him completely off-guard.  
  
  
  
And so, there they sat for quite some time, Freya desperately trying to forget that this was, indeed, a very small space, but unwilling to deal with any more verbal abuse for the time being, although, she admitted reluctantly, it had been quite a great deal of fun thus far, and Amarant wondering uneasily if she was going to pass out. She looked a little wobbly...  
  
  
  
Just as he had made up his mind to ask her if she were alright, the pile of dirt blocking the path back to the cell began to seep out and fill the empty space at a rather alarming rate, and Freya quite lost her head.  
  
"Ack! The walls are caving in! We're going to die!"  
  
With that, she leapt at Amarant, clinging to him tightly. After several futile attempts to pry her off - after all, those claws were SHARP! - he glared down at her.  
  
"You might wanna know, we aren't gonna die. The walls aren't caving in. And...ah...we can leave now."  
  
Slowly, she released her grip on him and lifted her face from where it was buried against his shoulder, and blinked in shock as her gaze lit on Zidane, covered from head to toe in dust, a giant fork slung over his shoulder, grinning triumphantly, triumph quickly melting into mischief as he took in the sight before him.  
  
"Oh, I see you two have gotten to know each other pretty well."  
  
"Shut up, Zidane!" they both commanded, in complete agreement for the first, last, and only time ever. Or, at least, until the next time they were.  
  
  
  
The End  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: Well, that's it, folks! Many apologies to Kevin Smith. Please don't sue me! This was only for fun! This is an example of why I should just deal with the little ideas bouncing around in my head instead of writing them down and inflicting them upon the world at large. 


End file.
